Chapter 20 Sage
SAGE
Some days I wonder why the hell I decided to go into nursing.
Days when the smell of blood and sickness seems permanently etched into my nostrils.
When I don’t get a single break that lasts more than five minutes before the next person comes in, desperately needing care.
Days when the hospital is so short-staffed, everyone is doing the jobs of five people and there’s no time to process the heavy shit we deal with before something worse comes rolling through the doors.
Today was one of those days.
Exhaustion drags at me as I finally reach the door to Brady’s apartment. My stomach is growling, the protein bar I scarfed down while charting hours ago long since gone.
I should’ve asked him to pick me up from work. I know he would’ve said yes without a second thought, and I have only my stubborn self to blame for the fact that I had to ride the bus and then walk the rest of the way when I was already dead on my feet and starving.
I push the door open and am struck by the warmth, and the absolutely incredible aroma of something delicious. Garlic, spices, and…
“Is that homemade bread?” I blurt out as I step into the apartment in time to see Brady, wearing oven mitts and a black apron, pull something out from the oven.
He looks up at me with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yep. I made some roasted vegetable and lentil soup and bread. I dunno, it felt like a cozy dinner kind of day.”
“Oh my God, that sounds amazing,” I groan, kicking off my shoes just as my stomach lets out an inhumanly loud noise.
“Well, that’s embarrassing.” I grimace, but Brady just turns and opens a cupboard, taking something down and tossing it to me. It’s a miracle I get my hand up in time to catch it, given how tired I am.
“Hey, careful, not all of us are baseball players,” I protest before looking down at the packet of trail mix he’s tossed me. “Wait. When did we get this?”
“I hit the store earlier to get a few things for dinner and grabbed them,” he says casually. “If you don’t want that, I’ve also got the dried mango you like, or there’s some more coconut yogurt in the fridge.”
My throat feels oddly tight. Those are the three snacks I can’t seem to get enough of right now. “How did you…”
“I pay attention.” He leans against the counter and holds up a hand, counting off as he says, “You’ve had the yogurt every single morning for breakfast, along with a graham cracker to settle your stomach. The trail mix seems to be your go-to snack to munch on, and the mango, well…”
He winks.
“We both know the mango is the craving you’re not admitting to.”
Tears prick at my eyes, and I blink furiously to keep them away. I will not let this man see how much a simple thing like knowing what snacks I like affects me.
“Thank you.”
He dips his head. “No problem. Dinner’s just about ready, do you want to shower and get changed before you eat?”
“Yeah, that would be good.”
Showering off the bad vibes of the shift from hell is exactly what I need to do. And maybe having a few minutes of space before sitting down to another meal with him will help me regain control over my haywire emotions.
But as I stand underneath the hot spray of water, I find it’s not so easy to stop thinking about the handsome man who made me dinner and is waiting for me right now.
A knock on the bathroom door startles me from my circling thoughts.
“Sage? Dinner’s ready. No rush, just wanted to let you know.”
His deep voice, and the fact that there’s nothing between my naked body and him except an unlocked door, has me biting my lip.
“Okay,” I say, the word coming out high and strangled. I hurry through the rest of my shower and pull on the clothes I brought into the bathroom over my damp skin. After raking a comb through my hair and quickly braiding it, I lean my hands on the counter and stare at my flushed face in the mirror.
Would it really be so bad if I stopped resisting and gave into the temptation of Brady Dixon?
Giving my head a shake, I take in a deep breath and open the bathroom door.
Walking into the main living space, I see two steaming bowls of soup set on the small table that usually is covered in miscellaneous stuff.
A plate with slices of bread is in between the bowls, and when I glance to the kitchen, Brady’s carrying two glasses of water over.
“Sit, eat,” he says, setting the waters down.
I slide onto a chair silently and give the soup an appreciative sniff. “It smells incredible.” Lifting a spoonful up to my mouth, I blow on it softly before tasting it.
“Oh wow.”
“Yeah? Glad you like it. I’m not much of a cook, but this was a staple when I needed something cheap and filling for the twins.”
“It’s delicious, Brady,” I say honestly, taking another spoonful before reaching for a slice of bread. I tear off a chunk and dip it in the soup before eating it, and my eyes close as I moan at the mouthwatering flavours.
Brady makes a noise, and my eyes fly open to see his burning into mine.
“If you keep making those noises, I’m gonna be making soup and bread every damn day.”
“You mean every time I come over, right? Since I’ll be moving out soon. There’s another apartment that’s available, and I think it’s a good fit.”
A heavy silence falls over us.
Why the hell did I say that? It’s not like I’m exactly eager to leave.
He drops his gaze first, focusing on his food. I do the same, but the energy between us has shifted.
After a few tense moments, Brady lifts his head and fixes me with another stare.
“Why do you keep holding me at arm’s length?
You don’t have to move out, Sage. You can keep staying here, as long as you need.
It’ll be a hell of a lot easier as your pregnancy gets further along, did you think about that?
When you go into labour, I can be right here with you.
The early days with the baby? You don’t have to be alone. ”
I freeze with my spoon held midair.
“Brady,” I start, but he moves quickly, getting out of his chair and coming to kneel beside mine, taking the spoon from my hand and setting it down.
“No, don’t say anything yet. Just hear me out. Please?”
Oh God. “Okay.”
“I know I don’t have any right to ask this, not when you could do a hundred times better than me, but…fuck, Hurricane. Give me a chance? Give us a chance? Stay here. Don’t move out. We can be friends for now, but maybe someday we could be something more. I’m just asking you to be open to that.”
I’m stunned. He thinks I could do better than him? He thinks… No. No, he can’t. “You’ve got it backward. You deserve so much more than what I could give you. I don’t know how to be in a relationship, how to commit to someone. I’m a mess.”
His jaw tightens as he lifts a hand to cup my cheek. “There’s so much wrong with what you just said, but I won’t argue with you. Not right now, at least. But know this: I want to be with you, mess and all.”
Heat blooms up my throat. My lips part on a shaky breath as I cover his hand with one of my own. He leans in slowly, then pauses. I have to make the decision of whether or not this goes any further.
My heart is hammering in my chest. Then I close the distance.
Our mouths meet. It’s soft at first, tentative. I want to press into him, get lost in him.
After just a few seconds, Brady makes a noise in the back of his throat and takes the kiss deeper until it’s pulling me under, like a tide. This is a kiss that whispers of promises I don’t dare let myself believe.
I break away on a gasp, my lips tingling, pulse racing. My fingers lift to touch my mouth as we stare at each other, the air heavy and electrified.
Pushing back from the table, I stand on unsteady legs.
“I’m pretty tired, so I think I’m just gonna go to bed. Thanks for dinner,” I say hurriedly. Then, like a complete coward, I disappear down the hall to my room, close the door, and throw myself on the bed.
I cover my face with my hands as if that can somehow hide me from the hurricane of emotions whipping up a frenzy in my mind.
Of course, I would picture a hurricane…
Grabbing a pillow, I muffle a quiet scream. I want him way more than I should. But wanting him and letting myself have him are two very different things. I wasn’t lying when I told him I didn’t know how to be the woman he deserves.
I don’t know how to be the woman who stays, who has a home and a life with another person. Because the only other person I’ve had that with died.
But sometime later, when I finally hear his footsteps coming down the hall, my breath gets stuck in my throat. He pauses outside my door, and I clutch the pillow even tighter.
There’s a muffled noise that sounds suspiciously like his head or his fist hitting the door, and then my name, growled low, and filled with emotion.
“Sage, let me in.”
He’s not just talking about my room. And damn it, I’m tired of fighting with myself over what I feel for him. I want to let down my guard and take what he’s offering. I’m terrified of hurting him, and of being hurt myself, but I’m not terrified of him.
“Come in.”